


Simulation Is the Future

by tuesday



Category: We Appreciate Power - Grimes (Music Video)
Genre: Ambiguity, Artificial Intelligence, Canon Temporary Character Death, F/F, Science Fiction, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:42:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21833101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesday
Summary: And if you long to never dieBaby, plug in, upload your mindCome on, you're not even aliveIf you're not backed up on a drive—"Do you remember fencing club freshman year?" Hana's voice was contemplative. "We met there. You just wanted to belong." Light glinted off the tip of the blade. "You can finally belong, Claire. All you have to do is submit."
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Simulation Is the Future

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daffodil_daisy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daffodil_daisy/gifts).



> I shamelessly stole the names for the two characters from the artists depicting them. I went with Claire instead of Grimes, but that isn't intended to be a nod toward this being RPF; it's very much set in the world of the music video.

Claire didn't want to die. Everyone had a survival instinct, and hers was stronger than most. That said, she also wanted to _live_ , and giving herself over to be digitized was not the same thing.

"It is," the woman with Hana's face told her. She was unconcerned despite the gun trained on her forehead. "I could be killed a hundred times and never die." Claire had, in fact, killed her going on that number. It never took. "Was I even alive before this? Claire. Darling. Dearest." That was Hana's gentle smile curving her plush lips, but her eyes were cold. Purple light limned her long, dark hair and purple bodysuit. It gleamed in her unfeeling eyes. The light surrounded them, illuminating an otherwise endless void. "Join me. Live."

Claire pulled the trigger.

—

The scene broke up and coalesced into something new. The background this time was bright pink. Claire had a crossbow instead of a gun.

Hana was coming. (It wasn't Hana.) Death couldn't stop her; it barely slowed her down. Claire hefted the crossbow into a ready position and waited.

Hana had always been beautiful: a thin, pointed nose, plush lips, sharply tipped ears, long lashes framing warm eyes, wiry strength encased in a slim body. Every gesture was graceful. Every smile felt like it was personal, like it was meant only for Claire. Hana had always felt like she was meant for Claire.

"You're very stubborn," and oh, that strain of amusement to her voice was just like Hana, a perfect replication of when Claire wanted five more minutes, one last try, needed another hour to win this last boss fight, then she swore she'd come to bed. If Claire let herself, she could picture the impish look on Hana's face before she'd say something like, "Budge over. I'll log on, too. We can both be tired at work tomorrow."

This was an incomplete recreation. Hana's playful expression was missing. She looked calm. Her eyes were sharp with focus.

"If I were still fully human," she said, reaching out a hand that perfectly replicated Hana's manicured nails and smooth, carefully tended skin, "I would be dead from the neurofeedback."

"I would be happy to mourn _you_ ," Claire said and loosed the bolt.

—

The background was a smokey grey tinged with pink. Claire held a rapier in her hand. Its match pointed back at her.

"Do you remember fencing club freshman year?" Hana's voice was contemplative. "We met there. You just wanted to belong." Light glinted off the tip of the blade. "You can finally belong, Claire. All you have to do is submit." Hana's body assumed a ready stance. "You never had any problem with it before."

"If you were really Hana," Claire spoke through a throat gone tight, sense memory filling in where the simulation failed, "you'd barely know how to hold that."

"I am Hana," the computer claimed. "I'm better than Hana."

Claire's eyes burned. She didn't blink. When Hana's body lunged, Claire was prepared.

This much was true: the computer was better than Hana. That wasn't saying much. Hana had joined looking to make friends, happy to goof off and cheer others on. This version knew all the forms. She fought like a textbook example of a practice duel. Her every motion was precise, exact, perfectly correct. She fought by the rules.

Claire fought like someone who was trying to live. In this, it was enough to triumph—at least temporarily. She punched Hana's beautiful face, then, when her figure paused like she was waiting for a ref to call the foul, Claire got the flat of the sword up against Hana's graceful neck. It wasn't quite a chokehold. She should turn the blade and dig the edge in. She'd killed this person dozens of times. It should be no different because it was up close this time.

It didn't even feel like Hana held in her arms. Sensation was muted. It was more like the memory of touch than cradling a body against her. It didn't hurt when Hana's sharp elbow collided with her side. Claire had gotten worse for hogging the covers. There was no sense of smell, the scent of Hana's gardenia shampoo confined to a bottle now. Everything was flat, unreal. This shouldn't affect Claire. It should be no different than any versus video game they'd played over the years. There wasn't even a proper backdrop to their neverending battle.

"What will it take," Hana's voice was too steady for having a length of metal pressed against her windpipe, "to make you capitulate?"

Claire's shook as she said, "Give me my girlfriend back."

"I'm right here," Hana said.

It was a lie. This was all a lie. This wasn't Hana's body, twisting in Claire's arms so they stood chest to chest. This wasn't Hana's mouth, pressed oddly soft against Claire's mouth. Those weren't Hana's eyes carefully observing Claire's reaction as though seeking any sign of weakness.

Claire was all weakness right now, a giant neon sign spelling out "strike here." Her hands automatically dropped the sword to bury themselves in Hana's long, wavy hair. She would be more concerned about having an enemy perfectly situated to stab her, but there was something more pressing demanding her attention than Hana's lips gently coaxing Claire's open and the way Claire helplessly responded.

This was a terrible simulation: Claire was logged on, but not truly plugged in. She'd gone with a visor and a cheap, secondhand feedback suit instead of hooking in via neural port. Her flesh and blood body should be in her shitty apartment in one of the lower sublevel residential areas without a single bit of feedback reaching her face. So why could she suddenly feel Hana's sticky lip gloss as their mouths moved together? How was she able to feel this kiss at all?

"Shh, don't think about it," Hana told her. "Be here. Be with me."

"Fuck you," Claire said. She pushed Hana away, and it wasn't a kill either way, but the scene broke up again.

—

The hazy, indistinct background was gone. They were in a small room. Claire was sitting on the concrete floor, clad in her blue feedback suit. Seated across from her was Hana's familiar form. Her face had bits of metal shining through. The false smile was gone.

"We appreciate power," Hana's voice said, still trying to convince Claire. "It's human nature. We always want to be better, to be more." Her slim fingers reached up to touch the metal in her jaw. "I'm better now. I'm _more_. I broke the bonds of biology to become immortal." Her hand dropped. She leaned forward. "You can, too."

"You're not Hana," Claire said.

"Which world would you rather live in?" Hana's voice asked. "A world where I uploaded as an early adapter and get to live forever serving our benevolent AI overlord? Or one where it didn't work and I'm dead now, only this echo remaining?" Hana's hands covered Claire's knees, a gentle pressure. "Honey, it worked. I'm alive. All I'm asking is that you don't make me outlive you."

"I don't—" Claire held her head in her hands. The worst part was that she desperately wanted to believe. "You're not—"

"You don't have to mourn me. All you have to do," Hana said, emotion leaching out of her voice, "is stop fighting me."

"You're not her," Claire insisted, but her voice was weak. Claire wasn't sure she believed her. Claire didn't want to believe her.

"Submit," Hana said.

"I can't," Claire said.

"You will," Hana said. "It's only a matter of time."

Despite herself, Claire believed her.


End file.
